In the Heart of the Savage
by Missy Writes
Summary: Lostpaw's life is fairly normal. She has a brother and a best friend. She has a goal to become a warrior. She has unyielding loyalty to RiverClan. But not everything is as simple as it seems. After all, when there are secrets to be kept and pasts to hide, no peeking eyes are safe. Sometimes curiosity is better left alone. Sometimes truth is worse than wonder.
1. Prologue

**Hey all! Welcome to my first fanfic on this site! My name's Missy. :) Thanks in advance to anyone for reading this. I really appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy~**

 **Oh! And, if you would, I would absolutely positively love to hear your reviews. I will swamp you with hugs if you post them! 3**

 **Okay. Onto the story now. Hehe.**

Allegiances: RiverClan

Leader: Tadpolestar- dark-furred tom with icy blue eyes

Deputy: Floodwater- white tom with gray paws and an unusually long tail

 _Apprentice, Honeypaw_

Medicine Cat(s): Minnowleap- shaggy blue-grey female, tinged with silver hairs on her muzzle

Stormfoot- long-furred gray tom with a distinctive white ear

Warriors: Duskfall- tall, stony-faced black male

 _Apprentice, Skypaw_

Shallowpool- gorgeous she-cat with a tuxedo pelt

Yewberry- small, ginger she-cat with musky brown eyes

 _Apprentice, Heronpaw_

Hollowshade- muscular, mottled tabby tom with broad shoulders

 _Apprentice, Lostpaw_

Gorsetail- strikingly slim blue point tom

Acornleaf- light brown abyssinian male with a distinctive ginger tail

 _Apprentice, Brindlepaw_

Poppyspot- delicate cream ticked tabby female with short legs

Littlestorm- red-furred she-cat with two different colored eyes

 _Apprentice, Storkpaw_

Oaktuft- stocky calico tom

Ashcloud- tall, silver tabby she-cat with long legs

Blueleg- blue-grey lynx point tom with piercing green eyes

 _Apprentice, Kestrelpaw_

Thornstem- sleek, solid black tom with a kinked tail

Rainfur- lithe grey calico tom

Apprentices: Honeypaw- lilac tabby she-cat with unusually large ears

Heronpaw- white-furred female with gray paws

Storkpaw- white-furred male with gray paws

Lostpaw- tall, brown tabby she-cat with wide shoulders

Brindlepaw- short tobie tom with stubby legs

Kestrelpaw- speckled cinnamon tom with hazel eyes

Skypaw- long-furred ginger she-cat with a distinctive white tail

Queens: Amberbrook- ginger-and-white she-cat

Halfnight- matted tuxedo female (mother of Beaverkit, large brown tom with bold green eyes, and Otterkit, black tom with short legs and a long tail)

Elders: Icywind- stingy, blind silver tom with matted fur

Prologue

It was a fine night. The sky was slightly tinted with a light gray, and the sun was hidden; a good thing when the weather was excrutiatingly hot most other days. A light drizzle of rain was spotting the land, and a small haze of fog covered the land. What a beautiful night to flee.

A she-cat was tearing through the land, uprooting grass that caught in her claws and caused her to stumble every few steps. She couldn't afford to lose even those few steps. Her vision was blurred by the onset of rain, her breathing muffled by the kit covering her mouth. Her eyes were squinted, but the wildfire spreading in them through her heart was no less put-out by the slowly steadying onpour.

Blossomdawn could feel the kit on her back slipping off, his little claws piercing her shoulder blades like pins. She shrugged, trying to get him comfotably on her back again, but she didn't stop running. She couldn't.

So focused on making sure her kits were all right, the queen didn't notice the root beneath her feet until she'd tripped on it. Her son was sent flying, her daughter loose from her grasp. She hissed in frustrated pain, scrambling to her children, shooting frantic looks behind her. Reaching for the tom, she snagged his tail by a paw and pulled him close to her, scooting him on her back once more, and grabbed the scruff of her daughter tightly in her jaws. Pushing herself to her paws, she took a step forward, but her leg refused to hold her weight and buckled when she applied pressure to it.

Blossomdawn shut her eyes and bit her tongue so she wouldn't cry out in pain. Had she twisted her ankle when she fell? It was throbbing. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, and began to hobble forward on three legs. Stopping wasn't an option. But . . .

Her pursuer's thundering steps were growing louder. He would catch up to her soon. And then . . .? She didn't know what. The adrenaline from her run was starting to wear off, and fear slammed her heart like a truck. She shuddered, her legs trembling. If she could just make it to that tree, to the one she _knew_ was hollow, she could hide. She could save her kits. She could save _herself._ So she limped as hurridly as she could toward it, visible in the distance, so within her reach. It was almost as if she could reach out and hook it with a claw.

"Stop."

Blossomdawn's blood froze, her pattering heart plummeting to her stomach. Her claws dug into the ground. It was too late. Her breathing labored, she turned around slowly, trying to cling to whatever time she had left. Setting her daughter on the ground lightly, she gritted her teeth, lips peeling back.

"You honestly think I would let _you_ sneak away? What-do you think I'm that incapable?" He drew himself to his full height, taking a step toward her. The mere intensity of the bitterness in his eyes was enough to make her knees weak.

"Tadpolefin, I-"

"Silence." The black cat's tail lashed as he unsheathed his claws. He took a step. Blossomdawn sucked in a breath. "There's nothing you can say now." Another step. She placed a paw in front of her daughter. Instinctively. Defensively. The rain was pounding on her back now. "You know what's coming."

"I won't be quiet," she spat, a snarl appearing on her maw. "If you kill me, right here and right now, you'll be nothing better than a murderer; a murderer of a queen and her innocent kits!" She could hardly choke out the last word.

Tadpolefin's eyes narrowed. "I won't be killing your children." That struck Blossomdawn hard. Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak. "But I will be killing you. And you will die a coward."

"I thought we were friends," she murmured, shaking her head. Water dripped down her forehead, and she flattened her ears against the rain. Her son whimpered, pawing her leg, his tiny body bogged down by the weight of his wet fur. She pulled him close to his sister, wrapping her tail around the two.

Tadpolefin's jaw worked. "I thought we were too." His eyes were throwing knives, and his gaze was the firing arm.

"No." Her voice came out in a croak. "No." She didn't want to just die here. Not like this. "I'm not going down without a fight.

Tadpolefin's expression wavered. And she thought, for a moment, that she could see regret in a look. But it was gone in an instant. "I didn't think you would." He closed the distance between them with a mighty leap, bowling into the she-cat and knocking her to the ground.

Blossomdawn's shoulder caught the brunt of the fall, and she let out a breath, her eyes watering. Tadpolefin slashed across her face, nicking her ear in the process. Wiggling under his grasp, she wrangled an arm free and used it to dig her claws into his chest, using her hind paws to knock him off of her with as much force as she could muster. She heard an "oof" as the breath was knocked out of him, and she used whatever little time she had to roll to her feet. Her head was spinning with the pain in her shoulder and her twisted ankle, but she pushed the feelings away and launched at Tadpolefine while he was still down.

Landing on his back, she tried to keep him pinned by digging her claws into his shoulders and lower back and keeping her weight as concentrated as possible. But he swung his head up, slamming into her mouth and causing her to veer back. She could taste the blood pooling from where a tooth had been ripped from its socket.

Tadpolefin wasted no time. Before Blossomdawn could blink, he had quickly righted himself and slashed at her face. Pain exploded from her eyes as the world was turned from light to dark. Like flipping a switch. She wasn't sure if she was blind, or if there was just too much blood clotting her vision to see. She shook her head, trying to clear her eyes. But nothing worked. Backing up, the she-cat pricked her ears and violently lashed out, trying to hit any part of him.

"Where are you? You coward! I'm going to-"

A set of claws met her neck, and her sentence turned to gurgled words as she collapsed on the ground, her sides heaving and blood forming a pool around her. She could feel it slicking the fur underneath her, running across her pelt, heavier than the rain. And everything . . . everything was leaving. Sounds were fading. Time was slowing. She couldn't even really feel the agony she'd felt before, just that dull throb in her shoulder. Her heart was beating now. Not pounding. Not pattering. Just beating.

Once.

Twice.

Her eyelids were heavy.

Three times.

Four times.

Her breathing slowed.

And then . . .

Nothing.


	2. Loss

**To anyone who's reading this, I blow kisses to you! Thank you so so much for sticking around! *hugs* You're amazing!**

Chapter One

 _Loss_

"RiverClan, retreat! Retreat!"

My ears flatten to my skull the second I hear Floodwater's cry. I spit blood out of my mouth, squint my eyes as it drips down my forehead. Why is he calling for _us_ to retreat? We're fine. I take a sweeping look at the Sunningrocks. What was previously a clean, stony outcropping has been painted in blood, decorated in fur, and topped off with battered, limping cats everywhere. So, maybe we're not fine.

Bodies rush past me, colors zooming past faster than I can handle. I stumble back a bit, shaking my head and hearing the sound of drops of my blood hitting the ground. How disgusting. But no matter how disoriented I am, I don't want to be left behind. So, casting a glare accompanied with pursed lips at the gloating ThunderClanners who have draped themselves across the rocks, I turn and race after my Clan mates. As our paws hit the river, every splash is a tsunami. But I have to admit, the cool water is nice on my burning pads. And maybe it's washed some of the blood away.

I have to admit: even though we lost this fight, I'm not ashamed . . . Okay, maybe a little bit. But not as much as I thought I'd be. I never cared much for that pile of rocks anyway, and maybe it sounds a little strange to be saying this, but I _enjoyed_ the battle. The rush of adrenaline, the test of my physical capabilities, the speed of everything happening around me; it was crazy. A good crazy.

 _Patta patta patta._ Our paws turn from heavy to light as we break from the hard surface onto the familiar grass of our territory. The river is roaring beside me, breaking against jagged rocks at its surface and spraying me with droplets. I hear a hawk screech above us, a small songbird dabble a few notes somewhere nearby. I focus my attention ahead, where the patrol is starting to shove through the cat tails at the entrance to our camp.

I brush past them, squrming as they tangle under my feet. I slow my pace, breathing heavily, spots starting to darken my vision. Sitting is probably a good idea. I press a paw to my left shoulder, where a small stremof blood is still running. It's not enough to be of concern, but it does sting a little. It should heal soon, though. I've seen kits recover from deeper scratches.

"Lostpaw!" I twitch an ear and glance up. A grin replaces whatever expression I previously wore as I spot a white cat trotting across camp, gray paws almost skipping off the ground. He nuzzles my cheek when he reaches me, purring. There's nothing greater than seeing the face of a friend after a long day. "Are you okay?"

I nod, breaking our embrace. "Never better."

"Really?" Storkpaw sounds skeptical, and nods at my shoulder. "That doesn't look too good. Maybe Minnowleap should take a look at it."

"Nah, I'm fine." I smile bigger. "Really!"

"You know you better than I know you," he says. "But enough about that! How was it? Did you kick some ThunderClan butt?" He swats a paw in the air with a battle cry. I laugh.

"I tried! Honeypaw and I fought off a pretty large tom. He was probably a senior apprentice or early warrior." Ah, the look on his face when he knew he lost. If I could relive it forever, I would.

"So _that's_ what she's gloating about." Storkpaw rolled his eyes, flicking his tail to where the lilac tabby was eagerly babbling to a group of wide-eyed kids. Beaverkit's dark fur was fluffed up, making him look more like a bear than a beaver. And I could see a black tail eagerly lashing behind the larger brother; Otterkit.

"She can babysit all she wants. I'd bet Halfnight's perfectly fine with it." After three months of heavy travel by a swollen stomach followed by three more of kit-sittng, I can only imagine the exhaustion she must have to suppress every day. Being a mother sounds . . . really unappealing, actually. I'd be fine without that.

Storkpaw's tail-tip twitches; flicks my ear. "You're probably right."

Something hits my head from behind. I hiss agitatedly, snapping my head around far too fast. My neck suffers the consequences and I cringe. Brindlepaw shoots me a speepish grin, his head facing the floor by eyes staring up at me. I can't help but roll my eyes at how much of a dork he is. It reminds me of Mom.

"Sorry," he whispers. "I was just so excited to see you that I ran across camp." His tail emotes for him as he talks, wildldy waving. "And then I was going so fast that I couldn't really stop. So I skidded across the ground and kicked a rock at your head. You . . . you aren't mad, right?"

"I'm furious," I say blankly. His eyes widen, and he doesn't bother to hide the terror in them. I snicker, nudging him with a paw. "No, I'm not mad. I would just prefer to _not_ have a goose egg on my head, if that's fine with you."

My brother's cheeks flush. I can see the pink tone of his skin beneath the thin cover of fur. "S-sorry," he mumbles again, dropping his eyes.

Storkpaw snorts behind me, and I shoot him a glare over my shoulder. Brindlepaw is a push-over. A pacifist. A complete wimp who needs to grow a backbone before he turns to jelly. But I'm the only one that can poke fun at him because of it. That's what family's for. I stand, approach him, nuzzle him. "Brindlepaw." He looks up at the sound of his name, forehead wrinkled with worry. "It's fine. You're fine. I'm not mad."

"O-okay." He smiles quickly, but it fades quicker than it appeared. The thought's crossed my mind beore that he would make a far better medicine cat than a warrior. It's unfortunate that the spot's already filled by someone else. "Hey, your shoulder! It's bleeding. Lostpaw, are you all right?"

Still? I dab it with a paw, and when I remove my pad to see, it's soaked in blood. "Ah, so it is."

Storkpaw sticks his face beside mine, giving me a look of "I-told-you-so" that is all too familiar with him. "I told you it needs to be checked out. Come on, Lostpaw. The medicine cat's den is only a few feet away. Can't you at least ask her what she thinks?"

I wave my paw dimissively. "Yeah, fine, whatever. If I go, will you stop nagging me?"

"No," Storkpaw starts. "I'll keep bugging you to go to the medicine cat's den once you're in the medicine cat's den." He doesn't bother to hide the sarcasm that drips from every syllable like honey.

I wrinkle my nose. "Aren't you funny?" I shake my fur, shake off the sarcasm, and take a step forward. Wrong foot. Pain shoots up my shoulder, and I wince. Now that the adrenaline from the fight is gone, pain's decided it's his turn to sneak up on me. Brindlepaw is at my side in seconds, Storkpaw on the other.

"Need a hand? Or, excuse me, a shoulder?" The smile isn't on the white apprentice's face, but I see it anyway; a phantom smile, if you will.

"Ha, ha. You're just full of jokes today, aren't you?" Using the support of my brother and best friend, I hobble across the clearing; slowly, carefully. I feel as though, even though time is passing, we're crossing as much distance as a tortoise with weighted ankles. But my living crutches perform their duties well, and I do manage to make it inside of the den.

Blinking, I can see that the two cats have their hands-er, paws-full. Minnowleap is tending to Littlestorm's wounds, applying some sort of goopy poultice to a wound across her nose. I can see her wrinkle it with the rancid smell. Oaktuft waits behind her, dried blood caking usually sheen calico fur. One of his paws hovers above the ground, a steady drip of blood falling from it to the ground. He must have cut it on a sharp rock on the way back here. And Stormfoot is wrapping cobwebs on multiple scratches, varying in size, on Rainfur. The splotchy-furred tom hardly reacts, keeping his face stiff. I glance at Brindlepaw. He's watching them, his eyes flickering between the female and her apprentice in wonder.

Stormfoot finishes applying the webs to Rainfur's wounds, and sends him on his way with a curt nod. "Try not to sleep on them! They can come off easy." Rainfur merely twitches an ear to show his acknowledgment before pushing in between Storkpaw and me on his way out of the den. Taking a quick sigh, Stormfoot notices us standing there. Me bleeding. Kind of all over the ground. And he seems to snap out of some sort of daze, his ears perked as he makes his way to us.

"What in the world happened to you?" he asks softly, looking over my shoulder with a recoiled expression. Does it really look that bad?

"Guess I bit off more than I could chew," I replied, sitting down. The space around me was starting to spin, just slightly. I blinked a few times, but that didn't help but.

Stormfoot gestures to my crutches. "You two are wonderful friends for bringing her here. Now get out."

Brindlepaw's ears flatten. He opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it and backs away. Storkpaw lingers. "I can't stay for a little while longer?"

"She isn't dying. But she might if you hang around any longer, therefore getting in my way. Leave, please!" Stormfoot ushers the protesting tom out of the den, his tail flicking crossly. He returns to me, muttering something inaudible under his breath. It's probably better I can't hear what he's saying. "Now," he starts, business-like. I'm not sure I like the fact that my life is business to him. "Let's take care of this shoulder of yours."

Many uncomfortable minutes later, my shoulder is properly bandaged and, I assume, in the process of healing. It's still pretty sore, and the first few layers of cobwebs are soaked through with blood. It's deeper than I thought at first. Stormfoot warned me about being careful for the next little while; no high-energy training, no climbing trees, no swimming. Water would wash off the poultice. _And_ he wanted to keep me in the medicine den for overnight watch. Fun. I get to have a sleepover with the prickliest tom in the Clan and his crabby old mentor. If I wasn't me, I'd be jealous.

Storkpaw and Brindlepaw hadn't come back to visit me. I'd be offended, except for the fact that I watched Littlestorm and Acornleaf take them out training. I also saw Storkpaw protest, jerking his head toward the medicine den, even raising his voice. That earned him a cuff to the ear. But the fact that he cares so much? It brought a smile to my face.

Now I'm lying on what might be the most uncomfortable bedding I've ever sat in before. I keep rolling from my left side onto my stomach, unable to adjust to my right-that's the injured shoulder. But no matter how hard I try to shut my eyes, they just _won't close._ It's aggravating, to say the least. I want to sleep. I'm exhausted. But I can't. My eyelids are glued to my face, or something.

Sitting up, I roll my head, hearing a satisfying _pop_ from my neck. That crick's been killing me for hours. I look over my shoulder. Minnowleap and Stormfoot are sleeping deeply, it looks like. He's snoring, and her paws are twitching. She murmurs as she dreams. I'm tempted to crawl closer just to hear what she's saying. But that would risk waking her, if not both of them. So instead, I hobble on three legs out of the den, careful to duck my head so it doesn't catch on the ceiling and cause a ruckus.

Squeezing out of the small opening separating the medicine den from the rest of the camp, I twitch my ears toward the river. I can hear it, even here, the small stream in our camp connecting to the rest of it. I live for that sound. Running water. Splashing. The gurgling of the waves as they jostle each other in between the rocks. Maybe it's the fact that I'm a _River_ Clanner, but I love the river. I think the most disappointing part of my injury is that it keeps me from the water.

I'm almost caught up in my daydream enough to miss the silent form of someone picking their way across camp. Luckily, I'm a light thinker. I snap out of my thoughts, narrowing my eyes as I try to make out who could be up at such an hour. They're small enough to not be a warrior, and . . . headed for the entrance? Whoever it is knows they're doing something wrong. As they reach the cat tails lining the border of the territory, they glance over their shoulder, ears pricked and hackles raised. I duck low to the ground so they don't see me.

They seem satisfied with their brief sweep of the camp, and duck through the cat tails. As I creep closer, I spot the cat's speckled tail swish past the entrance. Is that . . . Kestrelpaw? What in the world?

Obviously, injured shoulder or not, I have to follow him.

 **So, there's the first chapter! Yup yup! Thanks for reading this, it means so much to me! Until next time, I guess?**

 **Reviewers get cookies hand-delivered by Lostpaw. ;3**

 **Ta-ta for now!**


	3. Two is Worse than One

**Hooray for quick-ish updates! cx So, um, I guess I'll reply to reviews at the beginning of each chapter.**

 **Rainsong of Silverclan: Thank you so so much for that sweet compliment! It warms my heart. :) I totally get what you mean by a better grabber, I guess, for the plot description? I'll certainly take that into consideration. I'm really awful at writing summaries, ha ha. xD Main reason for such a short, vague plot description. Thank you so much for the review!**

 **So, onto the story!**

Chapter 2

 _Two is Worse than One_

I brush past the cat tails at the entrance, careful to weave my way through them as silently as possible. They brush against my whiskers and tickle my nose, and I have to contort my face in weird ways to stifle a sneeze. I keep my eyes on Kestrelpaw's form as he darts through the entrance. It's hard to be carefully quick.

My head emerges from the cat tails, and I take in a short breath. Kestrelpaw's gone. What in the . . . ? There's nowhere he could have run off to. I limp forward a few steps, squinting in the darkness. Why did he decide to sneak off this late? He couldn't have picked a more convenient time? Midday would've been nice.

Movement catches my eyes, and I creep forward. I think that's him, hidden in the rushes near the river. His spotted pelt is easy to pick out, even with the pressing shadows that he probably thought would hide him. I delicately hobble to the river, making sure to keep my footing light and my body low to the ground. I barely apply pressure to my right leg-just enough to keep me stable. The minute my face brushes the rushes, I dip down lower, concealing myself in them while keeping my head up so I can still follow him. The roaring river does me justice-hides the sound of me as I slip through the rushes.

A chill breeze nips at my fur, and a shudder passes down my spine. Why does it have to be so cold near the water? As we travel through the territory, Kestrelpaw starts to quicken his pace, and I have to attempt a three-legged jog just to follow him.

Kestrelpaw breaks out of the rushes, whipping his head around to look behind him. Directly at me. I suck in a breath through gritted teeth, not even twitching and keeping everything low to the ground, even flattening my ears to my head. He narrows his eyes. Tips his head. _Don't see me don't see me don't see me . . ._

He huffs, turns around, shakes out his fur. Dew drops fly off of him. And then he breaks into a run.

I widen my eyes, cursing under my breath. Shoving through the rushes, I charge after him. I never knew he was so _fast._ No wonder he's such an exceptional hunter. But I wish, just this once, that he would stub his toe on a rock. Trip on a tree root. Get a side ache from running. Is that cruel of me?

We continue this way for a while. I'm gulping in breaths of air as I run, every muslce in my body demanding that I stop. My legs are cooked noodles. Spots are clouding my eyesight. My throat is on fire. How does he do this? He's nearing the edge of RiverClan territory. What does he want with the edge of our territory? He can't have snuck out this late, this slyly, to remark the _border_.

He bunches his muscles, wiggling his hindquarters, before leaping onto the bridge connecting our territory to the island. Wait . . . what?

Curiosity is driving me to follow him. Exhaustion is demanding I rest. Pride tells me I can't stop here. Apprehension wins. I find my voice, and call out,"Kestrelpaw!"

The hair on his neck spikes. He turns to face me, slowly, ears flattened to his head. But when he sees it's me, he blinks. Relaxes. I'm only slightly offended that he doesn't think of me as a threat. "Oh . . . uh, hey there, Lostpaw." The levelness in his voice is surprising.

I sit down, breathing heavily. It feels so nice to sit. Breathing has never been this refreshing. "What are you doing out here?" I don't bother to hide the accusation in my voice.

"Me? What am I doing out here? You mean, out _here?"_

"Quit stalling!" I snap. "I probably just ran a mile on an injured shoulder for this. Tell me what you're doing."

His eyes narrow, nose wrinkles. "You followed me?" His lips start to peel back, but only slightly. "Why?"

"Oh, come on. You're telling me you wouldn't do the same if I snuck out of camp so secretively?"

He straightens up. "No. I would respect your privacy."

"Sure you would," I snort. "Don't change the subject."

The spotted tabby looks over his shoulder, pulls back his ears. "I'm just going for a walk, okay?"

Talking to Kestrelpaw is like walking on eggshells. He's kind, sure, and a great listener. But he's sensitive-takes everything too seriously. And little things set off an awfully explosive temper. I lick my lips nervously, a mental note written in my head to be careful with what I say next. I can pry, but not too much. "Walking to . . . the Gathering place?" I Keep my voice calm.

His glances at his feet and pulls his ears back. "Right; about that." Edging forward, he steps off the bridge. "I was on a casual walk, just thinking about stuff. But I heard someone behind me, and got spooked. I didn't want to get in trouble, you know, with Tadpolestar's rule about apprentices being off alone, so I ran. And . . . I just ended up here. Thanks a lot for that, by the way. You really freaked me out!" He narrows his eyes at me, kneading the ground with his paws. A nervous habit.

His story is possible. And his eyes, even when squinted at me in frustration, are honest. But a nagging in the back of my mind won't let the skepticism submit to belief. "If all you're doing is going for a walk, then I'm sure you wouldn't mind coming back to camp with me."

Straightening himself up, Kestrelpaw casually flicks an ear. "No problem." He trots to my side, then leans his face in until it's close enough to mine that I can smell the mint on his breath. "But next time, if you want to walk with me, just _tell_ me about it first."

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I pin my ears to my skull. Did I really pursue a hopeless cause? That's more than disappointing. My shoulder is throbbing now, and the wound has probably re-opened and begun to bleed. I can feel it soaking through the fourth layer of cobwebs. Minnowleap's face will be twisted with rage. Disappointment will be painted in Stormfoot's eyes. I'll make a feeble excuse. Stormfoot will roll his eyes and rip off the old bandaging to replace it. I'll try to drone out the lecture I know Minnowleap will give.

"Hey!" Kestrelpaw's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "Wasn't it your idea to head back to camp?"

I blink. "Yeah."

He raises an eyebrow. "Do you want to actually _do_ that?" He struts ahead of me, flicking my chin with his tail as he passes. "I have no problem with leaving you behind if you slow me down."

"I can keep up," I say with a stiff jaw. Gritting my teeth, I right myself and start walking beside him. Each step shoots needles up my right shoulder. If I could go back in time and smack myself in the face for coming out here, I would. Curiosity killed the cat. Or, in this case, curiosity caused the cat's injured to shoulder to hurt, making her wish she was dead.

It's a quiet night. A thin layer of clouds is covering the sky, leaving little light for us to see by. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, though, so it isn't much of a problem. The wind has picked up again. I welcome the cold after such a heated run, and close my eyes for a moment to soak it up.

"What are you doing?" Kestrelpaw snorts without missing a beat. I huff, opening my eyes and glaring at him.

"Enjoying the breeze. You can't tell me you aren't."

"I never said I wasn't. But I do it with my eyes open." I detect a flicker of a smile on his maw, there and gone in the same second. Cheeky apprentice. I flex my claws.

"You don't have to walk with me. You can go up ahead."

He breaths a sigh, staring up at the sky and shaking his head. "No, I can't. You're pathetically weak after running on that shoulder." He nods to my right. "If you collapse, or faint, or die, it's on me."

I blink. Maybe it's ridiculous, but his words . . . touch me. In a way. I didn't know he cared about me. Maybe we're becoming friends.

"I couldn't have my reputation soiled because of you," he continues. Any budding sense of forming a relationship with him is dead. I purse my lips and continue walking, keeping my eyes on the ground. Why did I expect anything more than an ice wall between him and me?

For a few minutes, we travel without speaking a word to each other, other than me mumbling a sullen "sorry" to him when kicking a rock at his ankle accidentally on purpose. But I hate the perpetuating quietness, the tension fizzing between us, as if the second our pelts touch we would both feel an electric shock. It's awkward and unnecessary. So, still not looking at him (my pride has its limits), I speak. "Can we at least try to be decent to each other? You don't have to like me."

Silence. Kestrelpaw's mouth twitches, but that's all I get for a reply. He keeps walking, his shoulder blades accentuated with each movement.

I take a deep breath. "Kestrelpaw?"

His ear twitches. Is he ignoring me?

I increase my pace, blocking him. "Hey! Kestrelpaw!" Irritation buzzes in me, and I glare at the apprentice's passive face. His eyes are glazed; unfocused. He doesn't break from whatever trance he's in until he bumps into me. I back up a pace. Rebounding, the tom shakes his head, shuts his eyes, opens them.

"Did you say something?" he asks, but I can tell that he's not really listening. His head is turned to me, but he's looking past me, hazel eyes dull.

I sneak a look over my shoulder, puzzled. "Um, no." Turning around, I cock my head as he simply shrugs and continues to walk toward camp. "Are you . . . okay?"

"Fine." That's a lie. The abrupt change in attitude is enough to tell me that. His blurred eyes just give that theory a secondary push.

"Are you sure? Because if you have to stop, or rest, that's fine with me. Honestly, I wouldn't mind stopping for a little while. My shoulder is still pretty sore, and-"

My sentence is cut off as I hear a strangled breath, and a sudden weight collapses onto my right side. Onto my shoulder. I cry out in pain, pulling away. Kestrelpaw's body falls to the ground with an unsettling _thump_. I grit my teeth and roll my shoulder. Some of the cobwebs have been torn off, and a fresh trail of blood is marking tracks along my foreleg. Watching myself bleed causes my stomach to roll. I can't do this. So I look at Kestrelpaw instead. I can see his flanks heaving with shaky breaths. Moving to his side, I dip my head to see his eyes. Closed. "Wh-what the . . . Kestrelpaw?"

My paws are wet. I lift them in shock, widening my eyes. Blood is sticking to my pads. I stare at the speckled tabby again, and can see a cut on his head oozing maroon liquid. "H-hey!" Being caught isn't such a conern anymore. But we're both standng out here-or, in the tom's case, lying down-bleeding, and I can't carry his dead weight by myself. "Help! Someone!" We should be near enough to be within someone's earshot. And the river isn't too loud in this part of the territory, more of a meandering stream than anything. It won't mufle my voice.

The wind whips my fur back, and I sink my claws into the ground to stay put. "Help! Please!" My voice cracks. I shut my eyes, praying to StarClan. Our ancestors have to be looking out for us, right?

A face tentatively peeks around the corner. Grey eyes widen. Grey fur stands on end. My heart melts. "Lostpaw? What are you _doing_ out here?" I didn't know she was on guard duty tonight; sneaking out prevented me from knowing that, I suppose.

"Mom," I breathe. Relief overlaps concern for reprimandation. She notices Kestrelpaw, and already huge eyes grow in size. I didn't think it was possible.

"Is that Kestrelpaw? What happened?" Ashcloud jogs to us, her eyes swamped with worry.

I shuffle my paws, the nerves returning now that she's asking for a reounting of tonight's events. "It's a long story," I murmur quickly. "For another time. But Kestrelpaw's out cold, and he's bleeding. And we need to get him back to camp. Please help."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "I'm hearing this story as soon as he's in Minnowleap'ls care.' Her eyes dart to my shoulder. "And you, too. Really, Lostpaw? You just got that patched up today, and it's already ruined? You aren't a kit anymore; take care of yourself."

I swallow, edging towards the still-grounded tom.

The she-cat huffs, hefting Kestrelpaw's weight with gritted teeth. "Get on his other side," she barks. I nod, hurridly pressing against the small tom with my good shoulder. I have no idea what caused him to lose consciousness, nor why he was out here in the first place. But I guess it doesn't matter now. I'll have to figure those out later.

 **Yay, another chapter's done. cx**

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	4. Choice and Consequence

**Review replies:**

 **Rainsong of Silverclan: Thank you so much! You're the sweetest. :)**

 **Foreststar of Windclan: xD Gosh darn disobediant Lostpaw, am I right?**

 **Aaaand without further ado, onto the chapter!**

Chapter Three

 _Choice and Consequence_

My guess is Minnowleap's been yammering to me for about a minute and a half. Wow,that she-cat can talk. I'm not sure what she's saying, only picking up snippets of scolding here and there. In any case, she's been yowling for long enough that her throat has becme scratchy, and she has to pause every few sentences to take a gulp of water out of the pool at her feet. My mother sits beside me, her tail folded over her paws, spine holdig her perfectly straight. She adds in her own comments here and there. I'm sure it's a wonderful bonding experience for the both of them, so I don't break it off.

I'm looking over Minnowleap's shoulder to where Stormfoot is tending to Kestrelpaw. He pads the ground underneath his head with a cluster of moss to elevate it. Cobwebs and other plants I don't know the name of have been pressed to his wound, and I think it's stopped actively bleeding. That's good.

"Are you listening to me?" Minnowleap rasps. I jump and look at her. Her matted fur is standing on end, and her lip is curled.

"Yes." That's a lie. But they don't know that. I want it to stay that way, so I keep a straight face.

My mother snorts behind me. I ignore her, biting my lip.

Minnowleap purses her lips, pausing for a moment. Her eyes dart from Ashcloud's to mine. Shrugging off whatever skepticism held her back, she continues. "You're lucky I'm not asking Tadpolestar to delay your ceremony."

My blood runs cold. "Delay my ceremony? For breaking one little rule?" I've snapped out of any focus I had on what Stormfoot was doing, and can't keep the panic out of my voice.

"Not only did you break a rule enlisted by your _leader_ , but you directly disobeyed my orders as well! I told you to stay put. You decided you were-what-above my words? What I said didn't matter?"

A twinge of shame snags me. "No. Kestrelpaw-"

Minnowleap cuts me off. "Don't blame this on him! I don't care if he was being dragged out of camp by one leg in the mouth of a _badger!_ You are to wake up an able-bodied warrior to take care of it. Never leave camp again by yourself, especially with an injury! Do you understand me?"

My cheeks are hot. My lip is trembling. I stare at my paws instead of at Minnowleap, but that doesn't help repel any of this feeling. Not guilt. I don't feel badly for what I've done. But being yelled at on the spot with my mother watching? It's humiliating.

" _Do you understand me?_ " Minnowleap repeats, a strict hiss in her voice. I thought it was a rhetorical question.

"Yes," I mumble. No, I say to myself. Along with the immense humiliation, anger finds its hold on my emotions and almost overtakes the embarrassment. Since when does a medicine cat get to push me around? I want to rip of the bandaging on my shoulder and charge out of camp right now. Just to see her face. But I also want to be a warrior. So I sit there like a passive goldfish, taking her bashing criticism and keeping my anger bottled.

"You're already behind on your training because of that shoulder. Let it heal, for StarClan's sake! And don't even think about setting one more toe out of line Tadpolestar has enough to worry about without you lot going off and getting yourselves knocked out. Or killed!" Minnowleap finishes her berading comments with a final huff in my direction before spinning on her heels and walking to where Stormfoot is tending to Kestrelpaw, most likely to assess how he's doing on his own. I let my eyes glide to my mother's feet, but don't dare find her eyes.

"Lostpaw," she says quietly.

I nod.

"Look at me." It's an invitation, not a command. That's a refreshing sound.

I comply, my eyes meeting hers. They're soft. She opens up a forearm, offering me forward. I inch into her embrace. She sighs, pulling me close and resting her tail on my back. "I know I should feel badly, but I don't," I grumble into her fur.

"Well, you should. Imagine how frustrated Minnowleap must be, wasting medicine on someone who doesn't even bat an eyelid about wasting them."

Here comes anger again, bubbling in my stomach. "You're taking her side?"

"No, no. I'm not taking _sides._ I'm sympathizing with her, is all. You've taken up quite a bit of hers and Stormfoot's time and resources these past two days."

I turn my head so my words are clear. "Sorry."

Ashcloud rests her chin on my head. "It's all right." We sit like that for a moment, her paw resting on my back and her head on mine. I can hear her heart beating through her fur. I used to love that sound when I was a kit. I would sleep as close as possible to her just for that reason. I guess it calmed me, in a way. I'm surprised it still does.

"You remind me of your father," she says, breaking the silence.

"Really? How?"

"Well, your stubbornness comes from him." I flinch, flattening my ears. "But so does your adventurous spirit. Nothing could tie down his free spirit. And no one can yours." She pauses, a small laugh escaping her lips. "Never change, Lostpaw." Pulling away from me, she straightens up, slicks back the fur on her neck, and turns to leave. But before she does, she casts me one more look over her shoulder. "By the way, if I was taking sides? I'd take yours." Smiling, she ducks through the entrance. I smile, too.

With the craze of the morning dying down, I realize how empty my stomach is. It growls at me as hunger pangs shoot up my sides. It's unlike me to deprive myself food for so long. It's been far too many hours since my last meal. I don't care if Minnowleap snaps at me for walking a few feet out of her line of sight. She has no arguement against me for eating.

My ears brush against the brambles weaved around the medicine den as I squeeze out of it, sucking in my stomach so my fur doesn't pull on the thorny lining. Been there, done that. Don't want that pain again. The wind has died down since this morning, but a pleasantly chilly breeze still sweeps through camp. I blink rapidly against the sunlight, keeping my head down and letting the sun beat on my neck rather than in my eyes.

From what I can see, the Clan is just waking up. Duskfall, Skypaw, Gorsetail, and Oaktuft are already up. They must have been on the dawn patrol. I can see the saggy exhaustion in the drag of the ginger apprentice's tail. Does she know about Kestrelpaw yet? She must have noticed her brother's absence when she got up. In any case, she'll know soon enough.

I cast my eyes elsewhere as I limp to the collection of food. Halfnight is bracing Amberbrook as they make a steady movement toward the returned patrol. The pregnant queen looks ready to burst, her stomach swollen enough to nearly brush the ground. I can see the pressing strain on her shoulders reflected in her expression: locked jaw, squinted eyes, scrunched forehead. Her relief is fathomless when she reaches Duskfall. Her mate greets her with a one-sided smile, resting his tail on her shoulder and tilting his head.

My teeth pierce the tiny body of a mouse. I sit with it in the shaded cover of an oak tree, disturbing leaves on the ground with my tail. Every bite chips away at my hunger. Every swallow fills the empty pit in my stomach. But not a single one fixes my shoulder. Or my indignation.

A white tom drags himself out of the apprentices' den in the corner of my eye, dipping his back in a heavy stretch. I lift my chin, swallowing the food in my mouth. "Storkpaw!" He tips his head, glancing around. I sit up, call again. His face brightens when our eyes meet. My beckon isn't needed, as he's already jogging to me.

"Good morning, sunshine." A purr rises in my throat at his sing-song voice. "How's the shoulder? How's the pride?" His grin slips for a moment. "Minnowleap gave you a hard time, right? Yikes. Wouldn't want to be you."

"Shoulder's . . . fine. Pride's bruised." I shift my position. "How'd you know?"

"I woke up when you came in this morning. I'm a light sleeper, you know?" Rhetorical question, I assume. He keeps talking. "I was worried about you, honestly." He looks away from me, adds a nervous laugh. "So I stayed up just to make you didn't die or anything, and I heard everything."

"Huh." I duck my head away from prying eyes. He probably can't see the blush through dense dark fur, but my knowing its there is enough to trigger a hide. "How'd you end up in the apprentices' den?" I hate the stammer in my voice.

His eyes sear me enough to think direct sunlight is beating onto my head. "I had to wake up Heronpaw. She's really grouchy when Yewberry does it."

"She's really grouchy when _anyone_ other than you does it," I say, a smile sneaking onto my face. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was in love with you."

I lift my head long enough to see Storkpaw recoil, grimacing. "Gross! Take it back."

"It's true!" I defend my point, lifting an eyebrow. "She idolizes you."

"By that logic, Brindlepaw's in love with you!"

My brother? "Ew!" Without prepping, I leap at Storkpaw, locking my forepaws onto his shoulders and pushing him backward onto the ground. " _You_ take it back."

He easily wiggles out of my grip, sweeping a leg under mine to knock me off my feet. Using a paw to pin me gently to the ground by my neck, he sits and cocks his head at me as I squirm under his grip. "What are you, a kit? You've got to attack better than that after a full moon of training." The telltale gleam in his eye allows me to not take his comment personally.

"Shut up! I'm a temporary cripple. No making fun of temporary cripples." I can't even lift my head with his paw holding me down. Frustrating.

"Hey, speaking of, how long until you can train again?" The weight on my neck lifts as he steps back.

I roll to a sitting position. I don't actually know the answer to that question. I guess I should have asked Stormfoot when I had the chance. "I'm not sure." I shake my head. "But I could ask." Storkpaw stands.

"I could go with you. Minnowleap's still in her den, I think."

My lip curls without my mind having any say in the matter. "No, thanks. I'll ask Stormfoot. At least he's not completely rotten."

Storkpaw rolls his eyes, but a smile stays on his face. "You can't hold a grudge against her. Next time you're sick, she might spit in your catmint before giving it to you."

"Worth it," I snort as I start to limp to the medicine den. "Stormfoot's probably in there, too. It's fine. I'll just ask him."

"Whatever," Storkpaw concedes behind me. I'm about to poke my head into the bramble-woven reeds when . . . speak of the devil, Stormfoot pushes his way out of the entrance, shoving me in his hurry. He nods to me without even checking to see who he bumped against, then continues on his way.

I tip my head. "What's his rush?"

Storkpaw gestures to the medicine den. "I'd bet you something worthwhile Minnowleap's in there and would answer your question."

I leave his suggestion with silence. That's enough of an answer as "no" would be, so why waste the breath? I follow the gray tom instead, my paws tracing his, the limp putting some distance between us. The camp is small enough, my eyesight is fine enough, and the crowd nonexistent enough for me to not lose him, though. He jogs to the Highbranch. Is Tadpolestar sick?

I crane my neck as he slips through the thickly rooted entrance to our leader's den without even announcing his presence. So Tadpolestar knew he was coming.

I should leave them alone. What Stormfoot and Tadpolestar are discussing is none of my business. So, naturally, I hobble closer. Angling my ears to the opening, I crouch in the reeds nearby and listen.

" . . . Didn't see her. I'm sorry." That's Stormfoot.

"Just as I expected." Tadpolestar's murmur makes it near to impossibe to pick up what he's saying. "And no one said anything?"

"They weren't angry," the apprentice says tentatively.

Tadpolestar's voice deepens. "But they said something."

"Well, yes." There's the sound of shuffling. "Bramblestorm expressed her concern. She didn't want . . ." Stormfoot's voice trails off into muffling. I inch closer, almost sticking my head into the opening in order to hear. ". . . to find out. Can you imagine how that would break his heart? I'm not sure he could handle it."

"Was that all?" Irritation lines Tadpolestar's words. "They didn't say anything about me?"

"I never said that!" Stormfoot's tone matches the leader's. "Let me finish. Leafnose said he was happy with . . . the outcome." He seems to be choosing his words carefully.

There's silence for a moment. "Is that all?"

"No. Wildfire was pretty upset, and told Leafnose he was heartless for thinking otherwise."

"Of course _he'd_ say that," Tadpolestar cut in. "He always hated Leafnose."

"And loved her," Stormfoot breathes.

The awkward silence is back, building tension between the two toms. Who are they talking about? Bramblestorm? Leafnose? Wildfire? I've never heard those names before. They sound ThunderClan-esque. It makes sense for Stormfoot to have been talking to an enemy Clan. Borders don't separate medicine cats like they do, say, me from a ThunderClan apprentice. But why Tadpolestar cares escapes me.

I missed some conversation while I was thinking. Fox-dung! "And then he asked how she was doing. I said she's been better, what with her injured shoulder and all-"

My breath hitches. What did he just say? ' _What with her injured shoulder and all'?_ My heart skips a beat. They can't, I mean, why are they-are they talking about me? Why was a tom I've never met asking how I am? What's . . . going on?

"Tell me if you here anything else," Tadpolestar grumbles. "You're excused."

Stormfoot's paw steps are nearing where I'm crouched. I want to move. But my legs are cooked noodles and my eyes are held open by pins. My heart is pounding in my chest. It's only when I see Stormfoot's head emerge from the leader's den that I scramble to my feet and duck around the side of the Highbranch, pressing into it like it's a lifeline and I'm running out of life.

What just happened?

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 **Missy out**


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